Magic's Child
by weepingingangelbaby
Summary: AU: Young Harry was born to the Potter family, but was not their child. He was created by magic to save the world. But when his twin is wrongly proclaimed the boy who lived, and Harry cast away, how will the wizarding world be effected? Follow magic's child on his trip through Hogwarts, and to the coming war. Major DumbledoreBashing. WrongBoyWhoLived fic with twists at every corner
1. Prologue

**I don't own Harry Potter**

Godric's Hollow October 31 1981

Lily Potter sat at her vanity mirror pinning her long red curls up carefully in an elaborate hair style. "James," she said calling out to her husband, not bothering to stop her action, "Do you really think we should be leaving the children alone?"

"Lily," her husband, James Potter, replied entering the room, "You need to stop worrying, it's one night." He walked up behind his wife, placing his hands on her shoulders. "and besides they won't be alone, Wormtail's watching them."

"Perhaps I should stay," Lily said standing up, "Peter should get to go the party, too. And someone needs to clean the house, and, and..."

"Lily, you need to calm down. Everything will be fine. The house will be fine. Peter will be fine. The twins will be fine."

Lily expelled a deep breath that had building up in her chest. "I'm sure your right. i just don't like the idea of leaving my boys alone."

"No mother does." There was a knock at the door causing the couple to turn towards it.

"Prongs, Mrs. Prongs, time to go," the man at the door said leaning his head into the room.

"We will be right down Padfoot. Is Peter here yet?"

"Yeah he just got her a few minutes ago. He is in the living room."

"Okay, Lily and I are just going to say goodbye to the twins before we leave."

"Sure thing. I'll be downstairs," and with that, Sirius Black, aka Padfoot, best friend of James Potter, Godfather of Harry Potter, clambered down the stairs of his friends home. Lily just shook her head at the loud noise the man was making.

"I swear," she began as they walked out of the room and headed to the one down the hall, "Even the twins are more mature than him sometimes, and they are barely even one years old!"

James laughed at his friends antics and his wife's comment, "True, very true." James Potter opened the door at the end of the hall.

It was a relatively small room. The walls were a light creme colored, with a deep tan color for the floor. The decorations were distinctly Griffindor, with red and gold baby blankets, and a large toy lion in the corner. On the far wall of the room was two cribs.

In crib one was the elder twin. Chase Edward Potter was brown eyed boy, with fiery red hair to match his fiery temper. He was a loud child. Everyone knew that baby Chase wanted, and they knew it when he wanted it. He was currently standing up in his crib, crying, not quite enamored with that silly little thing called sleep his parents wanted him to do.

Harry James Potter, the younger twin, was in the crib next to Chase's. Harry was Chases opposite in every way. In looks, while many said the older Chase favored Lily, Harry was all James, save for his very green, very distinct eyes. While Chase would cry, Harry would sit silent, often causing his parents to forget he was even there when they became wrapped up in baby Chase's problem's. The mistake, of course, was rectified immediately at every occurrence, when the finally remembered they had two children. Harry, like his brother, was still awake, but he sat silently, as always, in his crib just staring as his parents entered the room.

It was strange to be stared at by a baby, at least in the two parent Potters minds. Especially by their youngest child. his stare wasn't a curiosity stare, like he was just looking. No. Harry Potter's vibrant green eyes seemed to look to the very depths of their soul, down to the core of their magic. But that of course was impossible. NO one could look into magical cores, save perhaps Dumbledore. Still, being stared at with such intensity by a one year old was... disconcerting to say the least.

"You boys are supposed to be asleep," Lily said, walking over to Chase's crib as James walked to Harry's.

"NO!" shouted Chase in his tiny little one year old voice. Harry stayed silent.

"Yes baby boy. Your daddy and I have to go, and you need to go to sleep." Lily maneuvered her son onto his back, then handed him a blanket. "Goodnight Chase."

"Night Harry," James said from beside her after completing the same task with Harry. The Potters gazed down at their children for a few minutes more before exiting the room. Chase cried of course as the door closed partway, and Harry was characteristically silent.

Lily and James made there way downstairs to where the two boys godfather's sat waiting for them on the couch. Sirius stood immediately. "You guys ready?"

"Yeah, you gonna be okay Wormtail?"

"Ye-yeah. You guys can go, we'll b-be f-f-fine."

"Okay, make sure to check on the twins. Chase should stop crying soon, so just ignore him for now. Oh! And if anything happens just floo the.."

"Lily-flower! Calm down. Wormtail's watched the twins before. Everything will be fine."

"Yes, yes, of course," Lily shrugged her husbands hands off her shoulders, which he had placed there in the midst of her tirade. "OK, we we should go now."

"Finally!" shouted Sirius. "You two take forever to get ready!" The Potter's just shook their heads, and headed out the door, following their best friend.

An hour after the Potter's and Sirius left the house, a trembling Mr. Peter Wormtail made his way to the front door of Godric's Hollow. From there, he opened the door, and sent a small signal, telling his Lord and Master that he was ready for him.

"Wormtail," the tall, pale, nose-less man, with the piercing red eyes began, "The have left?"

The rat shook his head vigorously. "Y-yes my Lo-ord. They le-left an hour a-ag-ago." The small man stuttered through his speech, all the while keeping his head down, it wouldn't do to anger his Lord.

"You kept me waiting to long Wormtail."

"Ye-e-es, my Lord. Sorry my Lord."

"Don't apologize. Do better. Crucio!" The dark curse left the rat crying out in pain on the front steps of the Potter's home, as the Dark Lord Voldemort stepped over his trembling servant and into the home. The Dark Lord instinctively knew where to go to find the children. He supposed it was because of the prophecy that connected him and whatever twin the Chosen one happened to be, but he didn't care. As long as he killed the one that was to have the power to destroy him, he was fine.

The dark wizard made his up the stairs of the Potter house while releasing the hold he had over the unfortunate, stuttering, rat-of-a-man. "Come Wormtail," he called. The master and his servant finally made it to the end of the hallway. Voldemort paused a moment before blowing the door off it hinges. A completely unnecessary action, but it fit with his image of powerful, and oh-so dramatic. The door flew back before hitting the back wall and shattering on impact.

Voldemort stepped into the room and looked at the two cribs that stood before him. He walked to the first crib, which Wormtail informed him contained the eldest Potter twin, Chase. The red-headed boy was asleep, blanket in hand, sucking on his thumb. And someone thought it was possible that he could possibly contain the power to kill one such as he. He scoffed at the stupidity of such a thought.

He walked over the next the crib which contained the second twin. Harry, Wormtail had said. This boy was very much so awake. The boy looked up at Lord Voldemort with large green eyes that held no fear. The young boy tilted in question, seemingly wondering what the strange man with the black robes was doing in his room.

This was the child. This was the child prophesied to kill him. Voldemort knew it in his tiny little heart, and in his even smaller bigoted brain. For some odd reason, the Dark Lord found himself speaking to the child. "So you are the one prophesied to kill me, boy. You have no power. You are at my mercy." Voldemort continued looking at the small child. He knew that the child couldn't understand him. No, that would be impossible. But nonetheless as the child continued to stare with his Avada Kedavara green eyes, he couldn't help but feel that perhaps the child knew exactly what the dark wizard was talking about. Voldermort, though he would never admit it, was becoming a tad bit weirded out. "You will never destroy me Harry Potter." Voldemort took a step back, and pointed his wand at the small boy. "AVADA KEDAVARA!"

As the green light flowed from the tip of the Dark Lord's wand, Lord Voldemort's eye's widened. The boys once green eyes had turned to a fiery gold color that matched the glowing gold shield that had began to emanate from the small child. The shield formed a small tornado of sorts around the boy, and as the green light hit him, it was absorbed in the shield and began spinning around him. The tornado picked up other items around the room, and Voldermort watched on in horror as the tornado destroyed the room and everything around it, save for Harry Potter and his twin brother Chase. The killing curse, for the first time in recorded wizard history, had failed to kill its target.

Suddenly, the green light of the killing curse sprung out from the shield-tornado and headed straight at its sender. As Voldemort watched his imminent doom speed toward him, only one thing was on his mind. For the first time since the Dark Lord's memories of the orphanage as the scared boy Tom Riddle: he was terrified. He was terrified of the one year old child who had been able to do what so many wizards and witches before him had failed to do, all from the comfort of his crib. Finally the light struck him, and the small sliver of soul residing in him, and the Dark Lord was no more.

A few minutes later the gold light died down, not before knocking out Peter Petigrew and binding him to a rocking chair, and it was silent and still once more. The room was in shambles. Part of the support beams were in the process of crumbling, and the walls were streaked with burn marks. A small piece of rubble that Harry had failed to deflect from his brother had created a long scratch that had gone across the older twins from his eyebrow to his nose. That of course cause the boy to wake and begin crying. Harry, however, laid back down his crib, not the least bit fazed from the amount of magic used, but tired because he was a baby and it was night time for goodness sake, and went back to his interrupted sleep, his unruly black hair covering the small lightning bolt scar on his forehead.

And that was how the Potter parents found them a few minutes later as they came rushing into the room, having been alerted by the wards of a magical disturbance. A destroyed room, a shaking rat, a screaming boy, and a sleeping boy. Their eyes widened at the sight. Both parents rushed over to the boys, James to Chase, and Lily to Harry, quickly picking them up to examine them. Both parents gasped at the scratch across Chase's eye, altogether missing the lightning bolt on Harry's forehead.

Dumbledore was quickly summoned to figure of what had happened in the nursery of Godric's Hollow. After interviewing Peter, who had not entirely seen what had gone down, and an investigation of the room Dumbledore told the parents his findings.

"It appears that Voldemort came to attempt to stop the prophecy from fulfilling, but the killing curse somehow rebounded from one of the twins killing him instead, because an extremely bout of accidental magic."

The parents gasped. "Well who was it?"

"It must have been Chase, you saw the scrape on his face. He must have felt the need to protect his brother and his magic lashed out, killing Voldemort."

Dumbledore quieted both parents with a wave of his hand. "I will look at the twins magic cores to see which has the power to accomplish such. Stay here." Dumbledore headed back into the nursery, where the twins had been laid back down. He examined both magical cores before calling the anxious parents back in. "It was Chase," Dumbledore said, "His magical core was significantly more strong than his brother's. In fact it doesn't seem that young Harry has any magic at all."

Lily gasped, bringing her hand up to her mouth. "A squib?" James questioned.

"Yes, it appears so."

"What do we do?"

"Well, Harry can't grow up in the magic community. His brother will need specialized training to defeat Voldemort, and to raise him here would be unfair to the poor lad, seeing as how he has no magic."

"Defeating Voldemort?" Lily asked, "Isn't that what just happened?"

"Yes, but I fear this is only a temporary fix. Voldemort will be back, and Chase needs to be ready. He can't have Harry there to hold him back."

Lily and James looked at each other. "Your right," James finally said, "Where do we take him?"

"We'll leave him with your sister Lily. I believe they have a son his age."

"Yes. Yes. But tomorrow. We should all rest now."

"Yes go to bed," Dumbledore said, "I will watch over the twins for now. Go to sleep." And with that James and Lily Potter left the room. As they left, the old man turned back to the twin boys.

Harry Potter. He had lied of course. About Harry having no power. In fact at this moment in time, even after he had so obviously defeated the darkest wizard of all time, his power seemed to stretch farther than even Dumbledore himself. And that simply wouldn't do. He needed the 'Chosen One' to be malleable piece of clay for the leader of the Light to manipulate and form into his own image. Not a powerful, young magic user that could so easily defeat him even at the tender age of one year old.

So, yes, he had lied. He had told the parents that their powerful son was a squib, and that their other son, who had no more magic than the average one year old, was powerful. And no one would ever find out. Dumbledore pointed his wand at the sleeping form of Harry Potter and put a permanent magic binding curse on the powerful young boy. Satisfied he turned and left.

What Dumbledore didn't know was that even as he left the room the binding on young Harry's magic disintegrated, as if it never existed. There was a tiny fact the Dumbledore hadn't known as he cast the binding spell that had tried to bound the boy's magic.

Harry James Potter didn't have magic: he was magic.

Though he had been born to the parents James and Lily Potter, Harry was not their child, but magics.

The balance had been tipped when Voldemort had begin reign the land, magic had created a solution. A child of the purest magic.

So the next night, as magic's child was placed on the steps of the magic hating Dursely's, with naught but a letter of explanation, the wizarding world had thrown their hero and salvation in the gutter.

The wizarding world had just made the biggest mistake since its creation.

**Dear lord that took forever to write.**

**Review please.**

**Should I continue, or is this a story to throw away?**


	2. Magic

**Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter or Merlin.**

**(Just fixed the griffindor/gryffindor mistake)**

Long ago, before the dawn of civilization, before human beings roamed the earth, a power was formed, deep below the earth.

As the world changed, and new creatures began to form, creatures that held the power of the earth were created as well. Years passed, and some of these creatures died, while others thrived, when the dawn of the human race began.

These people formed civilizations, and they thrived. Eventually some of these people began to develop the powers of the earth, and the powers of the earth came to be called magic.

Magic thrived in the world. In harmony with others. You could walk through a village and on one corner see a regular man selling goods, and on the other a magician showing his wondrous little tricks to the children. It was time of peace, and a time of prosperity.

The villagers lived in peace with the sorcerers, and the sorcerers lived in harmony with the creatures of magic.

But time passed, and a King in a large kingdom came to power who grew to hate magic. Sorcerers across the kingdoms were hunted down and burned at the stake for their powers. People lived in fear. Magical creatures turned feral without magicians to tame them. Sorcerers turned bitter, attacking the kingdoms in hope to bring back the dawn of magic to the world.

What the people didn't know, was that as the world above fought, and slaughter happened, below the surface of the ground, the powers of the earth stirred once more creating a child.

This child was born to a peasant women, in a small village at the edge of a large kingdom. The father left before learning of the child, and the mother raised him all her own.

Even as a small babe, the child was ale to use the magic he was created with, even as beyond the walls of his home, his kind was persecuted. The child eventually grew up, learning to hide his natural gifts, for fear of being sentenced to death. One day the child of magic, now an older teen, headed to the kingdom were the hate of his kind was the strongest.

There he learned with a man who worked in the castle of the king, and learned to control and manipulate his magic to his use. And what a use that turned out to be.

The young teen became servant to the prince, son of the tyrant King, and as years passed the secret magician and prince grew to become friends, all the while the servant protecting his master wit the very thing he could be killed for.

Eventually the prince's father died, and the prince became king, and though he was not as harsh as his father by any means, magic was still outlawed through out the kingdoms. The servant, now a charming young man, continued to serve and protect from the shadows, never seeking credit or accommodation for his actions. Happy just to be of service. Until one day, things changed.

A vengeful sorceress, half-sister to the prince, attacked the kingdom and in the heat of battle, the child of magic's powers were revealed, as he defeated the evil sorceress who had long plagued the kingdom.

After long talks, and a short imprisonment, the young man was recognized as a hero, and magic was freed. For years upon years the kingdom thrived, and the young man continued to serve and protect his king, but never again hiding. But, as everyone knows, all good things must come to an end.

The good king grew old and died, as did everyone else the old sorcerer held dear, even as he stayed young. Years passed, and once more magic was persecuted. This time rather than bring back the dawn of magic, the old sorcerer created a place hidden from the eyes of the regular world where creatures of the earth and magicians could live in harmony.

People of the regular world forgot about magic, and the magical world stayed secluded, only venturing out to collect children born with the powers of magic and bring them to their little world.

Eventually, after hundreds of years of living, the child of magic died. His name was Merlin.

Once more years passed, and many teachings of magic were lost and the once named sorcerers, were known by another name. Wizards. Wands were formed, and many lost the ability to do magic without them. Wizards began to ostracize many magical creatures, and their world began to crumble, and magic began to die out.

Again, the power of the earth stirred beneath the rocks of the land, and four children were born. The four grew up, learning magic from their parents and those in their communities, and one day met.

The four, now experienced witches and wizards, decided to build a school, dedicated to teaching the different magics that they had learned from each of their families.

The school was built, and wizards and witches from all over the country flocked to the school, where they were divided into houses. Competitions ensued, classes were taught, and rivalries were born, but the powers of magic once more thrived, though hidden, in the world. It was true, that much of the magic from the time of Merlin had been lost, but that which was not was taught and used to the full extent it could be.

The school was called Hogwarts, and the children of magic Godric Gryffindor, Salazar Slytherin, Rowena Ravenclaw, and Helga Hufflepuff.

Still, all good thing eventually end, and the founders died, leaving the school, which itself was alive, for future headmasters to watch over. Years passed and misconceptions were bred.

Wizards born from muggles, the new term for mundane people, were thought to be less than. Creatures of old magic, were not only shunned, but hated and persecuted as well, their very rights taken away. The houses of the once esteemed school fought and were thought to be better than one another, no more acting in harmony but against each other. Dark wizards took magic and perverted it for their own personal gain.

One such wizard rose from the house of Slytherin, one of his heirs, and became the darkest wizard known to the magic world. He killed any who he though unworthy, mainly muggle-born witches and wizards, and creatures of magic. He, and those who followed him, killed many people, and he became so feared that even his name became a terrifying thing. And as this happened above, deep below the earth, magic was unhappy.

So once again, magic stirred, and in the womb of a women already in the beginning of pregnancy, placed its child. A child that would become the most powerful magic wielder since the beginning of magic itself. A child that would think, breathe magic. From the moment the child opened its eyes for the first time, it began to understand the world, and see magic flowing from the veins of the earth.

As the child fell asleep each night, he began to learn. The founders, and Merlin himself taught the child, as his eyes remained closed, so even in his child body, he understood everything going on around him, a genius and prodigy from the moment of birth, even though no one else some for something other that a baby.

He learned magic of wizards, the ancient magic of Merlin, the languages and magics of different creatures. As he slept, he learned, and when he woke he was a baby once more. He learned all the theory, but in his young body, was unable to actually handle the practical applications.

The child saw everything. He saw the magic within people. He saw their cores, whether good or bad. He saw peoples intentions, their innermost thoughts, and deepest secrets, as they could not be hidden from the child with all seeing eyes.

So the night that Voldemort attacked, and the supposed good wizard Dumbledore tried to bind his magic, young Harry Potter, youngest and most powerful child of magic, knew what was happening, and stopped it the best way he knew. With his magic.

But as he was taken away from his home the very next evening, he was powerless to stop it, and the chain of events that would follow.

**So? What do you think? Please I would love to know. I took most of the Merlin stuff from the BBC show Merlin, and made up the rest, but I am content with it. Are you?**

**Second, I need to decide if I am going to have Harry and the Potters get along, if only Harry and Chase will get along, or if the Potters and Harry will get on at all. I know I'm going to have at least have Harry get on with Sirius and Remus,but other than that... **

**Voting is open for the next two weeks. Its up to you, and other suggestions are open. **


	3. The Durselys

**Disclaimer:I do not own the mystical, magical world of Harry Potter. For if iI did, I would be a British person, and I am very much American. Though, I do wish I was British.**

**Mentions of neglect and abuse. **

Once upon a time, in the small neighborhood in Surrey called Little Whining there lived a family. That family lived in the house Number Four Privet Drive, and they were called the Dursely's.

Mr. Vernon Dursely was a large, very walrus like man, with an angry disposition. He wasn't particularly well liked at his job down at Grunnings, but who didn't make a few enemies in the lucrative business is sales? It wasn't his fault they were all a bunch of blathering idiots! Vernon Dursely cared for no one and nothing, except for perhaps his wife, son, sister, and food of course.

Mrs. Petunia Dursely was a horse faced women, thin as a twig (much unlike her husband), and had a perpetual need of perfection. Whether that be in the state of her garden, or what her neighbors thought of her, or what that her perfect little Duddykins had everyone of his perfect little needs taken care of. Perfectly. Was it wrong for her to dote on her little boy? Of course not! A mother had to do whatever it took to keep her perfect little angel happy.

Dudely Dursely was a spoiled, arrogant, fat little boy with little care for others. Even at the tender age of seven years old, he ruled his small group of primary school friends with fear and intimidation. Dudely Dursely new what he wanted, and he got it, no matter those petty little things called consequences tried to rear their ugly heads or not. And Dudely Dursely liked it that way.

So yes, many thought that they were horrid, not that theyever said it to their faces, mean, but no one would ever dare confront them, and not the most exemplary example of the human race, but they were normal. That was one thing the Dursely's always had claim to. Normalcy.

But everyone knows that every white picket fence holds back a secret, and that every picturesque scene has a flaw.

The Dursely's flaw came in the form of a malnourished, meek, thoroughly abused not of six years old, hiding in the tiny little depths of his cupboard under Number Four Privet Drives staircase. His name Harry Potter.

Hidden away. Away from prying eyes, judgmental stares, and the potential tarnish of a pristine reputation. And the Dursely's had every intention of keeping it that way.

* * *

"BOY!" shouted the large, and somewhat grotesque form of Vernon Dursely. Young Harry opened his cupboard door and poked his head out.

"Yes Uncle Vernon," the boy replied, as meek and quiet as one could possibly be.

"I thought I told you to have dinner done, and the table set for six by the time I got home freak! We have important guests coming, and I don't want some stupid freak mucking it up!"

Mr. Dursely of course had told the boy no such thing. Though he **had** tried to make dinner, his aunt had taken upon herself to put him in his cupboard because he had breathed his freakishness on her laundry, and contaminated it.

How that worked, Harry would never know.

But despite the lack of fault in Harry, he knew better than to point this out to his uncle. It would only result in a beating, and Harry had yet to fully recover from the last one.

"I'm sorry Uncle Vernon. I'll make dinner now Uncle Vernon," the young boy mumbled, keeping his head down, the respectful thing to do. At least most of the time. Sometimes Uncle Vernon wanted him to look him the eyes, but then the next day yell because Harry did not deserve to look at him with his freakish eyes. In Harry's opinion it was it was just another of his uncle's excuse to hit him.

Harry was correct in his assumptions.

But this time his uncle, obviously distracted by something, let him be, and Harry headed off to the kitchen to make the dinner for six.

Now one might say that a asking a six year old to make a meal, let alone one that you would feed a guest, would be a preposterous idea. A six year old could not possibly cook a meal on his own. In any other instance you would be very much so correct, but Harry was the most unusual six year old.

Because of the nightly visits of his five magical teachers, and his inherent genius, Harry was able to accomplish many mundane tasks that some adults may fond a hard feat, and Harry was glad for it.

The Dursley's were a hateful sort of family in Harry's all seeing eyes. They made him complete long lists of chores daily in order to maintain their perfect little house. If one thing was off, or even imagined off for the sake of an excuse, Harry was beaten. If Harry did something 'freakish' in the Dursley's judging eyes, Harry was beaten. And if there was no excuse to be made, and there often wasn't one, Harry was beaten for the sake of 'letting off steam' or perhaps the ever pleasant 'beating out the freak.'

Oh, yes the 'freak', as the Dursley's called it, was magic. Sure, that letter that that Dumbledore fellow had left said that Harry had no magic, but the Dursley's had witnessed on more than one occasion some of the boys freakishness when he thought they weren't looking, or when the boy was in his closet. The boy was as freaky as they came.

So Harry did as he was told, and began the long arduous task of cooking dinner. He lifted the large heavy pots with a bit more effort than was usually necessary, but his terrible upbringing so far had not done wonders for his physique and strength, so it really was no surprise. Harry mixed in the ingredients with practiced ease, and the aroma of good food soon filled the house.

As the dinner sat on the stove simmering to perfection, young Harry began to set the table. He stood on the tips of his tiny little toes reaching up for the good plates Aunt Petunia insisted on using for guests, yet always put to far away for him to reach. After finally getting them down, het set up the table, placing six settings, knowing that not one of them was his, for he was never to show his freakish face to such distinguished guests.

After finishing the entire process, Harry slunk off to his cupboard to hide for the rest of the night. Thirty minutes latter the doorbell rang, and the Dursley's guest arrived. Mr. Dursley's boss' family.

The night went on, and Harry stayed hidden within his cupboard, unable to fall asleep from some sense of unexplainable dread that filled him.

Unbeknownst to Harry, outside his cupboard door, his world was changing once more.

* * *

Mrs. Jennifer Danvers liked to think herself a reasonable woman. She was nice enough, and was very tolerate of peoples beliefs and actions. But walking up to the Dursely's door cost her every bit of self control she had to keep a smile plastered on her face.

You see, the Dursely's, however good Mr. Dursely was at his job, had a sordid reputation, and though she had only met Mrs. Petunia once, she had to agree wholeheartedly with what people said. Petunia was a stuck up, arrogant, self righteous woman, and she wouldn't doubt the family was the same way.

Her daughter, Victoria, went to school with their son Dudely, and horror stories of the boys terrible behavior, and bullying habits were all that were ever brought home. They had to be an exaggerated of course, no one could be that cruel, but Jennifer knew there had to be at least some basis for these tails that her daughter was spinning.

But, no matter how much she didn't want to be there, and no matter she wanted to stick Petunia's pompous attitude where the sun don't shine, Mr. Dursely was her husbands best salesman, and she had to be nice, if only for one night.

Her husband Michael Danvers rang the front doorbell. After a few minutes of waiting the door was opened by none other than Petunia herself. "Petunia," Jennifer said, trying not to sound as strained and irritated as she felt, "How very nice to see you again."

"Oh, of course. Of course," the horse-faced woman replied, "It is so kind of you to grace us with your presence," _what, _" Come in, come in." Jennifer gave another tight smile and walked through the door with her husband and daughter following in kind.

Soon the Danvers and Dursely family found themselves sitting at the dinner table. Vernon across from Michael. Jennifer across from Petunia. And Victoria across from Dudely. The food was quickly served and everyone dug in.

"This is amazing!" Jennifer exclaimed after just a few bites. Say what you want about the woman, but she was a phenomenal cook.

For the next few minutes passed slowly. The men conversed about different aspects of there jobs, and the two children seemed to be doing fine. Jennifer and Petunia sat eating in silence.

As boredom over came her, Jennifer tuned her ears to the two children's conversation. Surely they had to be talking about something more interesting than stock market prices.

"Who?" the boy Dudley asked.

"Your cousin Harry. You said he lived here, where is he?" her daughter replied.

_Cousin?_ thought Jennifer, she hadn't been aware that there was another child living here, there certainly was no evidence of one.

"Cousin?" Dudley said slowly, as if trying to figure out what the simple word meant. "OHHH," the boy said suddenly, "You mean freak. He's here, he's just in his cupboard.

"Cupboard?!" Jennifer suddenly exclaimed, causing the rest of the adults eyes to turn to her, "I'm sorry, I'm sure I miss heard, but did you say that your cousin was in the cupboard?!"

"Jennifer?" Michael said, wondering what in the name of sanity his wife was talking about.

"That boy just said his cousin, or 'freak' as he called him, was in the cupboard!"

"Vernon?" Michael said turning to the quickly reddening man, "Is this true? Is there a boy in your cupboard?"

"NO-OO-O!" the man sputtered out, "There is no one else living in this house."

"Yes there is Dad," Dudley said, "Freak is, remember? You put him in his cupboard after he finished making dinner. Everyone at the table stared at the boy, eyes open wide, mouths gapping.

"Why in the world would Harry be in the cupboard?!" Victoria yelled out.

"Victoria, who's Harry?" Michael asked, interrupting Vernon who looked like he was about to break something.

"Harry, Dudley's cousin. I told you about him Dad, the kid that always gets picked on at school?" Jennifer had vague memories of her daughter mentioning something about that, "Harry goes to our school, but Dudley always makes everyone be mean to him, and he told the whole school that Harry has to live with them and be their slave!" Both of the Danvers parents gasped.

"Vernon?!" Michael finally choked out.

"It's not true!" the large man yelled standing up, and pointing at Victoria, "She's lying!"

Michael stood up as well, and soon followed Petunia and Jennifer. Victoria just stared wide eyed at Vernon while Dudley kept stuffing his face, completely oblivious to the uproar he had caused. "How dare you call my daughter a liar!"

"How dare your daughter accuse me of such things!"

"Dudley," Jennifer interrupted, trying to stop the screaming match between the two men that seemed about to erupt, "Where is Harry?'

" Who?"

"Your cousin, Harry."

"Freaks in there," Dudley said pointing to a cupboard under the staircase.

"Dudley!" Petunia scolded, but Jennifer suspected it wasn't for calling the boy freak.

Vernon, who was farthest away from the cupboard, attempted to side step Michael, who was blocking the mans bulky form. "No no no. You stay here. Jennifer go look in the cupboard." Jennifer walked over to cupboard.

Jennifer wasn't quite sure what she was expecting. Maybe she would find a boy sitting the cupboard. Perhaps this was all a misunderstanding. But she was not prepared for the sight that greeted her eyes when she opened the cupboard door. She gasped as soon as she saw him.

"Jen?" her husband called, not taking nher eyes off of Vernon. Jennifer didn't know what to say.

Inside the cupboard was an abnormally small boy, with big green eyes and messy black hair. In addition the boy, who was currently not wearing a shirt for what ever reason, was covered in bruises, welts, and not much else. The boy was skin and bones. Even in the poor lighting with his knees curled up to his chest, Jennifer could count every rib, see every purple and black bruise, and every angry red belt mark. Well, perhaps not every, but you get the picture. "Harry?" She whispered to the boy who was looking into her eyes.

"Yes ma'am," the boy replied in even softer voice.

"Come on out please."

"I'm not allowed to go out of my cupboard when there is guest ma'am. Freak must stay inside. Freak must listen to his betters. Freak must not contaminate normal. Freak is a freak and deserves to be treated like one." Jennifer gasped once more as the boy said his seemingly well rehearsed mantra.

"Oh my... Michael there's a kid in here!"

Suddenly Vernon blew his top. "Boys no kid he just a freak with all his freakishness. He needs to be locked away and punished!"

"MR. DURSELY!" Michael yelled, his voice raising well above a normal level. "I have heard enough! Jennifer bring the kid out here." Harry whimpered as Jennifer reached in to grab him, which caused her heart to break even more than it already had. As she brought him out, her husband gasped at the sight of him. He turned back to Vernon, "I came here with the intention of promoting you, now you're going to jail. This is not right. Cmon Victoria, we are leaving." Victoria got up robotically, quite shocked at the sight of Harry, and followed her father who was heading to the door.

"You can't leave with him! I'll have you charged with kidnappings!" Vernon yelled, causing the Danvers to stop in their tracks. Vernon was right. They couldn't leave. If they took him now, they Durselys could accuse that they had caused the poor boy to be this way. There was no telling if Harry would actually be able to prosecute his aunt and uncle. Jennifer put the boy down. "OUT OUT OUT!" the walrus man yelled, chasing the Danvers out the now open door. They stood in shocked silence as the door slammed behind them.

Michael turned and yelled at the door, "Oh and in case myou didn't realize, YOUR FIRED!" He turned back to his wife and daughter.

"What are we gonna do? We can't just leave. We have to go back in there!"

" No we cant and won't. Let's get in the car and call the Durselys will be to scared to do anything right now, they surely know we're calling the police."

The Danvers family headed to the car. Surely nothing could happen in the ten minutes it took for the police to get there.

The Danvers were right.

They shouldn't have left.

**A/N: All done! Yay! **

**Review review review! And remember to give your view on the Harry/Potters relationship. Right now I'm headed for gets along with Chase, not with Potters, and hates Dumbly, obviously.**


	4. One Second

**Disclaimer: I have temporarily borrowed the Harry Potter series and have taken it out for a spin. I, in no sense of the word, own it.**

Harry Potter was extremely confused.

He is doing everything he is supposed to. He is being quiet. He is pretending he doesn't exist he is waiting in his cupboard. Then everything around him starts going crazy.

First one of his uncle Vernon's guests comes bursting into his cupboard, and according to his perfect memory never had that ever been a good thing, then he said what he was supposed to say, just as he always did, just as he was taught to do, and then the lady was picking him up.

As far as he knew being touched wasn't a good thing, at least it hadn't been since he lived with his parents, and here he was, in some strange women's arms being touched, being held, being… comforted. It was strange phenomenon. At least in the Dursley household it was. Harry so badly wanted to look into her eyes, to see the motives behind them, as he would have in the past, but he had long since learned that that was a bad idea. Looking into his betters eyes was a good way to get punished, and that would definitely be bad.

Then just as soon as the shock of being picked up wore off, he was being put down, and Vernon was yelling, and Aunt Petunia was shrieking, and people were running, and the door was being slammed, and then Vernon was turning around to face him, look of pure rage upon his face.

"YOU!" Vernon yelled, face red going on purple, the veins on his forehead bulging. "THIS IS ALL YOUR FAULT! YOU AND YOUR FREAKY FREAKISHNESS LOST ME MY JOB!"

Harry kept his head down just as he was supposed to. He listened to the loud, storming footsteps of his uncle as the man stomped over towards him, and then proceeded to smack him straight across the face. Harry fell to the floor, clutching his face.

Harry looked up at his uncle, ignoring the instincts that he had learned in the last five years to keep his head down. His eyes widened at the sight. Vernon was by far the maddest and the meanest he had ever been. And his uncle had been very mean and mad before.

He looked into the man he was forced to call uncle's eyes and saw nothing but pure, unimaginable rage. He saw through his uncle's eyes the memories of what had taken place that very evening as he sat inside his cupboard pretending that he did not exist. And he knew, as he lay down on that floor that his uncle was about to do something very drastic, something that would change his life forever one way or another.

Harry averted his eyes once more, bring his head down and folding in on himself using his arms and legs to protecting as much of himself as he could, as a flurry of kicks began to rain down on him.

His uncle began to scream once more, punctuating each word with another kick. "IT'S" _kick _"ALL" _kick _"YOUR" _kick_ "FAULT!"

"VERNON!" Petunia screeched, "Not in my living room! Not in front of my Duddykins!" 'Duddykins' just continued to stuff his face with the food that Harry had cooked, not paying attention to what was going on in front of his own two eyes. Not caring that his cousin was about to be potentially murdered as he lay witness.

"This freak just lost me my job Petunia!" Vernon bellowed, not stopping the onslaught of kicks. "I can very well kick him wherever I want! In front of whoever I want! This is my house Petunia, and I refuse to deal with such disrespect!"

"The Danvers are probably outside calling the police right now. Be smart about this Vernon! You shouldn't be doing this right now! We will just clear this big misunderstanding up with the police, and then you can kick the freak. You cannot go to jail Vernon! Think of what the neighbors' sill say!"

In the back of his mind, Vernon knew that what he was doing was wrong and stupid, and that the Danvers had probably already called the police, and that he was probably was going to be going to jail but that was the back of his mind, and the forefront was all he was paying attention to right in that moment.

So Vernon continued with what was on the forefront of his mind, beating his freaky freak-of-a-nephew to the point of death.

As Harry's consciousness became a questionable matter, and Vernon's anger reached a high point, the sound of someone banging on the door filled the room. Vernon took no notice, but continued on his desired path.

"POLICE! OPEN UP!" the police officers yelled, for the who-knew-how-many-th time.

"VERNON!" Petunia shrieked.

"SHUT UP!" Vernon raged.

The situation climaxed, and in a single second everything came to a stop.

The front door burst open, Petunia screamed, Dudley looked up, mouth full, Vernon sent another kick, and before two very shocked policeman, a horse lady, and two human walruses, Harry Potter disappeared in a small flash of light.

Officer Clark Turner always hated these calls. Child abuse. Every time he heard the stories on the news, or around the precinct, his heart couldn't help but break a little. His heart wept for the poor children, all the while feeling guilty because he was glad it wasn't his kid in that terrible situation.

When he heard the alert over dispatch, he just turned to his partner from the driver's seat of his car and shook his head before turning and driving as fast as he could towards Privet Drive.

When he pulled on to the street, he saw a family outside the house he was undoubtedly called too. The man was pacing back and forth along the drive way, and the woman seemed to be comforting a small child. He pulled up alongside their car and swiftly exited, his partner shortly behind him. He stopped in his tracks as unintelligible shouting came from the house. All heads turned in that direction.

"You've got to stop them!" shouted the woman. "The shouting started right after we called police. They are going to kill that little boy!"

"It's okay," Officer Turner's partner, Officer Harrison Ward, said softly attempting to call the distraught woman, but Clark could tell that he too was distressed from the noises coming from inside the house. Another shout punctured the short, but blessed silence, and a crowd began to gather around Number 4 Privet Drive, as people were drawn out of their houses by the noise.

"No it's not!" the woman cried out, "We tried to get him out of there, but they kicked us out and," *_gasping breath in*, _"and then we thought," _*gasping breath in*, _"We thought that he'd be fine," _*another breath in*,_ "fine for just a few minutes but then, then…" she gestured to the house and the shouting in a frantic manner, and broke down crying.

Harrison turned to his partner and stood up, "We have got to get in there," he said, in a tone that left no room for argument, "Now." Clark didn't even take the time to nod, but turned and rushed towards the house.

Clark banged on the door, trying to make enough noise to be heard over the screams coming from the inside. "Police, open up!"

No result.

"OPEN UP!" he shouted once more.

No result.

"POLICE! OPEN UP!"

_'__VERNON!' _came a muffled shriek from inside the door.

'_SHUT UP!' _came the angry reply.

"That's it," Clark said, backing up preparing to kick down the door. He looked to Harrison, and in one swift synchronized movement, the door was down.

The scene before him was one he would never forget, not even if tried. No matter how many mandated psyche evaluations he sat through, how many years passed, and how many new memories were formed, the next second would forever be burned into his memory.

The smell hit him first. It was the smell of a home cooked meal, one that was slaved over for hours. The smell one would expect from your mother's kitchen when you visited home for the holiday. But then that was quickly overwhelmed by a metallic twang. The smell of iron so strong you could almost taste it. One that took over the senses and blocked out everything else.

Then the sounds came full force. The previously muted sounds were no longer masked by the thick walls and doors of the house. The shouting was full force, the shrieking was full force, and the tiny sounds of gasping, painful breaths breaking through.

Then there was the people in front of his eyes.

There was a bony woman, eyes wide, and shrieking, looking much more like a horse than a woman. Past her was a _whale child (?) _stuffing his face, only looking up for that split second to see the door burst open. Next, there was the whale child's father, whom he obviously took after, face red with rage, and veins bulging in a most dangerous fashion.

And finally, down on the carpeted floor that was stained with the blood that had created the overwhelming smell, was a small boy. The boy was covered in blood, curled up in a ball that was quickly losing form, even as he lost the will to keep his eyes open. And in the last millisecond of the second that had extended to the time of a thousand years, the boy looked up, and his eyes met those of those of Officer Clark Turner. Those startling, bright green eyes stared into his in that short millisecond, and then they closed.

And the broken boy on the floor, the boy surrounded by blood, his own spilled blood, the boy with the startling green eyes, disappeared, and was never seen again.

And Clark Turner would never, ever forget it, for as long as he lived.


	5. Ghost People

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor do I own Merlin.**

**AN: I know that this is not listed as a crossover, but I have decided to add a lot of the elements of the bbc show, Merlin into my story. If you have not seen the show, don't worry you'll still be able to understand, but I have some fun ideas, and I need the show Merlin to do what I want to.**

**Also, if anyone can tell me where Harry has woken up, I will do something. Not quite sure yet. But something.**

**Now, no more jibber-jabber, here's the story.**

Harry's journey back to the land of consciousness was a long and painful process, but eventually he made it.

Harry felt himself wake up, but did not open his eyes. He had learned from past experiences that it was best to figure out your surroundings before confronting them. IT had saved him from his uncle's wrath on more than one occasion, pretending to be asleep.

"The poor, poor boy!" came the voice of a woman, whose voice reminded him of his mother's before she had given him away.

"I will kill them! Rip them limb from limb! How dare they do this to my little leo?!" came the loud booming voice of a man.

"Godric! Get ahold of yourself. You will wake the lytling, and scare him with your tone if you do not stop this instance," cam the cool, collected voice of another woman.

"I agree with Rowena, it would do no good to startle the boy," came the sophisticated, drawling voice of another man.

"How about we all shut up, because he's awake," cam the voice of yet another man, this one sounding a bit younger than the rest.

He recognized all of the voices. His teachers! The ones that came to him in his dreams and told him of the wonderful magic. The magic he could not yet control.

But that made no sense. As far as Harry knew, his teachers only came in his dreams. They weren't really real, they were his minds way of giving him information. Now here he was awake, and he was sure of that fact, and his imaginary teachers were in his…

Speaking of that where was he?

Deciding it was safe, considering the last voice already knew he was awake, he opened his eyes.

Harry was somewhere he never seen before. The thing he was on was some sort of bed, but not a modern one. It was old, and somewhat hard. Not that he particularly minded. It was still much better than the floor of his cupboard.

The walls around him were made of some sort of stone, with a small hole that could only be a window.

There was a large wardrobe made of wood on one wall, with the door hanging slightly open, a red shirt and some sort of blue cloth hanging out.

This was a bedroom. A bedroom that wasn't his, nor was it the Dursley's or his parents.

Then Harry saw the people.

Well, technically Harry didn't think they were actually people. Considering they were kind of transparent.

_Ghosts, _thought Harry, his eyes widening slightly.

The first ghost was a women. She was kind of short, compared to the other ghosts anyway. She had a worried look on her face, on that obviously didn't suit her. Harry could see the laugh lines around her eyes. This was a woman who smiled. The frown on her has did not belong.

She was slightly plump, not in a bad sort of way like Vernon and Dudley, but healthy. Her look suited her. She had brown hair that was piled on her head in a messy bun that looked as if she had tried, and failed, to make it prim and pristine.

Her dress was a soft yellow color. Not the bright yellow of a sunflower, but a soft yellow that was somewhat soothing.

Overall the woman oozed with an aura of love and comfort and mothering, something Harry had not experienced in a very long time.

Next was a man. He wasn't especially tall, but he made up for it with his broad muscles, and an aura of power and bravery. He was the sort of man ready to lead, and fight.

He too was not smiling, instead he looked angry, but for the first time in a very long time, Harry could see that the anger was not directed at him.

The man had a sword strapped to his side, and an outfit of red a gold that had the crest of lion on his chest.

The man was imposing and powerful, but he did not seem to be a danger.

The next ghost was another woman, this on with long curling black hair, and face that was calm and collected, though her eyes betrayed her emotions. Her eyes showed turmoil, and worry. Lots of worry.

She was wearing a long blue dress, and was very tall. She seemed to be the opposite of the first woman, with her tall and thin figure, but Harry felt that she too could be trusted.

Next was a very tall man, with aristocratic features, high cheek bones and all. However even with sharp, intimidating features, as Harry turned his gaze to him, he let his face soften. Something Harry could tell didn't happen all that often.

This man too, had a sword strapped to his belt, but his outfit was green and silver, a snake crest on his chest.

His aura was intimidating, and strong, but Harry felt safe.

The last man, looked younger than the rest. With wide blue eyes, short raven hair, and big ears sticking out on both sides of his head, he didn't look the part of intimidating ghost person as the rest of them did. But his eyes belied these thought.

They were old eyes. Eyes with the hardship and knowledge of centuries. While his body was young, the man's heart and mind were old and wise.

Harry didn't know how he was able to tell these things about the ghost people, but he seemed to see right through there strange little slightly transparent bodies, right to who they really were.

"Hello child," said the first woman, her ghost body gliding over, and kneeling by his bed. "Do you know who we are?"

Somehow instinctively knowing he wouldn't be punished for answering, he replied softly, "You're my teachers. You talk to me in my dreams. But I'm awake right now, how are you talking to me?"

"Well lytling," the blue woman said, kneeling down beside the first, "You were transported here, after…" her voice dropped off here.

"My uncle beat me. He was going to kill me," Harry said, his mind bringing up the events of the last thing he remembered, "He was so mad, and then the police came in, and then I woke up here. Did you take me away?"

"No," the blue woman responded, looking pleased that she didn't have to explain about the beating part of this situation, "Magic did. She had to protect her baby."

"Magic is not my mother, my mother's name is Lily Potter. She gave me away, because Dumbledore told her too when I was a baby. I don't like Dumbledore. I saw his mind, he is not nice. Not nice at all."

All five of the ghost people looked at each other.

"We will discuss that later," said the tall man with the green outfit said, before anyone else could say anything, "I feel that it is prudent for us to introduce ourselves now."

"You don't know my name," Harry asked, slightly confused, "But you were in my dreams, don't you know?"

"Yes we were in your dreams," the blue lady explained (names sure would be nice), "But magic only allowed us to teach you. Not get to know you, or help you. Not until today. I guess she felt that it had gone too far."

"I personally, feel like it went too far a very long time ago," the red man said, speaking out for the first time since his outburst.

"We will talk about this later," the young man in the blue shirt and red neckerchief said, "I'm Merlin. Merlin Emrys."

"Helga Hufflepuff."

"Godric Gryffindor."

"Rowena Ravenclaw."

"Salzar Slytherin."

Each one of the ghosts smiled as they said their names, well Salzar kind of grimaced.

Harry was quiet for a moment, then said his own name.

"Harry," he said, "Harry Potter."


End file.
